Home Fires
by ScorplinginTraining
Summary: Everyone knows Walter is gone. Paige and Ralph find some compelling but slim evidence he's not. Thinking they are merely lost in their grief and refusing to accept the truth, no one believes them. The mom and son duo are determined to find him even if they have to do it all on their own.
1. Chapter 1

**HOME FIRES**

 **AN: Heavy angst warning for the first chapter or two.**

"I know what you're thinking, Paige. And you couldn't be more wrong," Toby said softly. He leaned his back against the counter beside her as she busied herself making coffee. No one actually wanted coffee, but she had to do something or she was going to run screaming from this dreadful place. The atmosphere in the funeral home was solemn and so very oppressive she felt like she couldn't breathe. The cloying scent of gardenia air freshener did nothing to dispel the sickening miasma of death that seemed to hover around thickly in the air. The music, meant to be soothing, was grating to her ears. "No one blames you. It wasn't your fault." There he went; the doctor was 'in', always reading everyone's minds. The compassion in his gaze nearly made her lose the precarious hold she had on her emotions.

Trying not to raise her voice and disturb the unbearable, heavy hush in the building, she gripped the edge of the galley kitchen's counter until her knuckles turned white and answered tightly, "I don't want to talk. Please." It was all she could do not to shatter when someone gave her a sidelong look or whispered condolences. Paige didn't think she could survive genuine sympathy.

What Toby said made perfect sense. Logically she knew she didn't set the bomb. It wasn't her. She didn't know.

But it _was_ her fault Walter was there.

Three days ago, Paige and Walter had the mother of all fights. At fifteen, Ralph found everything about high school excruciating and decided he was ready to go away to college. Walter agreed, of course. The two of them were always thick as thieves. It was sometimes like raising genius twins who were twenty years apart. Together they'd been plotting ways to approach her, dropping obvious hints about the state of the public schools in their area and leaving college catalogs and leaflets and forms lying around the condo for weeks trying to soften her up. Subtle, they were not. Then they'd blindsided her with her son's acceptance letter to Simon's Rock Early College. In Massachusetts. Nearly 3000 miles away from LA, from home, from her.

To say she hit the roof was a massive understatement. Some of the things that came out of her mouth were inexcusable. And now Walter would never know how much she regretted saying them. Since crumbling wasn't an option, she chose not to replay the scene in her head. However, she couldn't quite stifle the memory of ordering him to get out. She told him to stay out of her sight for a while and the echoes of those words haunted her endless days and sleepless nights following her around everywhere like a hungry, rabid dog.

Because someone had rigged a bomb to explode when the front door of the garage was opened. The police and firefighters didn't find much in the way of remains. Just enough. Enough to shatter her whole world.

Remarkably the rest of the garage suffered minimal damage. The adjacent building took the brunt. Happy said whoever set the bomb designed it that way. The device was triggered remotely and directed the blast outward.

Best not to dwell on it yet.

Peering around Toby into the main room where the rows of chairs stood like soldiers at parade rest, she caught a glimpse of her disconsolate son surrounded by friends and family he didn't acknowledge, shrinking away from anyone who reached out. It was worse than when he was nine years old.

Yes, Paige had to hold it together. Long enough to catch whoever turned the love of her life and the only real father her son had ever known to vapor. Stealing Walter away before she could remind him how much she loved him and reducing her son to a silent shadow.

That person had to pay for all he or she had stolen from her and Ralph. The thought of revenge was the only thing currently keeping Paige upright.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Two interminable days after the funeral, Paige forced herself to go back _there_. She concluded it would be the most wicked form of torture, but the investigators were moving too slowly for her taste and she was tired of the accusatory silence in her apartment with one long minute plodding into the next. She had to _do_ something before she lost what was left of her sanity.

When she explained to Ralph what she was doing, she was frankly shocked he wanted to go with her. It wasn't much, but his quiet, "I'm going too," reverberated off the walls. Those four little syllables were more than he'd spoken out loud and in a row since the funeral. She couldn't refuse him even though she worried about what the sight might do to him.

The back of the Scorpion headquarters appeared bizarrely normal in the early morning light in spite of the shattered windows. It twisted something painfully inside her anyway. Paige made herself look closely trying to spy anything at all that appeared out of place as she pulled her car around and into the alley. The idea was to enter through the undamaged bay in the back. She didn't want her car seen from the street by nosy observers.

Ignoring the yellow ribbons of crime scene tape, she unlocked the roll-up door and raised it numbly, not allowing herself a glance at the dim interior. She wasn't quite ready. Unsure if she'd ever be ready, Paige eased the car inside and Ralph popped out the minute it stopped, making a beeline for the loft. The echoing slam of the passenger door startled her like a pistol shot and she sat frozen, her hand on the keys in the ignition suddenly beating back an angry, tearing onslaught of grief. She laid her forehead on the steering wheel willing herself to breathe deeply and slowly. She whispered, "I can do this. I can do this. For him." If she could just calm down, she was convinced she would notice something out of place the investigators missed.

Paige made herself get out and pull the garage door closed. She would worry about the loose and broken tape later. At the moment it was taking too much effort to walk around trying to see the scene objectively as someone familiar with things but unattached. She shuffled slowly past the Airstream, her pulse rate increasing with each step as she scanned right to left.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Paige swallowed hard as the scalding tears flooded her eyes blurring her vision. Here was the kitchen where he told her they couldn't do this without her. It was also the scene of more than one major disagreement as it gave the illusion of privacy. He'd fired her there. She could hear her own hissed and terse and shouted words still swirling around and around on a loop in her ears; the drone of an angry insect stinging her with the memories. She pressed the knuckles of one hand to her lips, but one hiccupping sob escaped as she remembered the U-dog song. Why didn't she see how adorable he was? Had she really looked on him with impatience that day? And over there, right there, was her desk. Her knees threatened to buckle underneath her and she grasped at the edge of the dinette table for balance with her other trembling hand. He kissed her for the first time right there on that very spot. And just beyond, they'd danced to that ridiculous, stupid, but somehow perfect song and it was one of most extraordinarily romantic moments of her whole life.

Why did she ever think she could do this? Paige was on the verge of collapsing on the floor in a heap of regret and loss, when she heard Ralph's urgent, "MOM!" from up the stairs.

It was pure instinct. Sure that he was hurt, Paige instantly bolted for the stairs able to ignore the painful memories in her hurry to get to her son.

She careened around the corner into the loft only to find Ralph standing by the bank of windows clutching a crumpled piece of paper as if it was infinitely precious like it held all the secrets of the universe. Beaming while the tears poured unchecked down his face, he exclaimed, "Mom! He's alive! I _knew_ it! Walter is alive!"


	2. Chapter 2

HOME FIRES

Ralph waved the paper fragment underneath Sylvester's nose with an impatient sigh.

"No. _Look_ at it! Don't you see? It's that scribble in the top left hand corner. There's the date, and in our code, the rest says, '197 still here. Help.'"

The mathematician took the scrap back from Ralph and squinted at it again managing to look both sympathetic and still very skeptical. "I can see they're numbers…?"

Toby grabbed Paige by the elbow and towed her toward the kitchen. Stopping in front of the refrigerator, he hesitated for a few seconds then, cringing slightly, he whispered, "Far be it from me to give you parenting advice, but you know this isn't healthy, right? I want it to be true as much as anyone. You know I do. But…"

She pulled her arm out of his grasp, then swallowing her annoyance as best she could, Paige answered, "I didn't believe him at first either until he explained." In fact it had taken about twenty minutes for Ralph to convince her of the soundness of his theory. After that, she immediately called the rest of the Scorpion team and asked them to meet at the garage. "Toby, you _know_ Ralph understands Walter better than anyone. Apparently they've been communicating with each other like this for years. It's a code they made up based on some sort of prime number spiral or something. They would leave each other notes and equations in that box in Walter's loft. It was a game they played none of us knew about. My son has spent the last five days, not shutting down like we all thought, but analyzing all the evidence trying to make sense of what happened. Ralph says there wasn't enough…" Paige shuddered and swallowed hard, "Organic material left after the explosion. All-all they found was a small amount of blood. He said it wasn't enough for a whole…" She had to bite her lip and just breathe for a second, "…p-person. The blood type matched, but A positive is the second most common. And the DNA hasn't even been tested yet. Cabe said it could take months to get results. Ralph figured all of that out before he found the note in their usual hiding spot."

Toby gave her a sad, doubtful look. She wanted to slap it off of his face. "Paige, did you see the size of the hole in the building across the way? The force of the blast was huge. And that paper could have been there for weeks. I know you're struggling with guilt over this…"

"No, Toby!" When the others looked around at them, she lowered her voice, "Ralph said it has a partial date and the note wasn't there the last time he was in the garage. He also said it's incomplete and looks like it was scrawled in a hurry."

Happy chose that moment to join them. She looked almost angry. "You guys don't need to be stirring all this up," the mechanic hissed, "It's giving the kid false hope, you know. That's worse than dealing with what _is_. Everyone is already wrecked over this. I know it's hard, but Walter is gone. You need to help Ralph face facts."

"So, just move on and forget about him? Is that what you're suggesting we do?"

"I didn't say forget him. But we have to face reality and figure out a way forward from here. I know it makes it harder to believe because we didn't… have a body to bury," Happy shut her eyes and cleared her throat before continuing, "But I know enough about explosives to know there wouldn't be a whole lot left and what was left was scattered out everywhere."

Tears filled Paige's eyes but she blinked them back and replied, "What if you're wrong? Walter could be out there. Hurt. And-and needing our help…" She covered her mouth trying to muffle a sob.

Toby laid a hand on her shoulder, "It's been five days. There's been no ransom demand. No attempt to contact us. No one claiming credit. Why would someone want to stage all this? To fake Walter's death? What would be the purpose in that?"

While Toby was speaking, Cabe wandered over. Embracing her like a father, he said gruffly, "Paige, I know it hurts, but someone just wanted him gone. We have video feed from the camera across the street. I saw him walk up to the door just before the bomb went off and took out the camera. We need to concentrate on finding out who took him from us and bring them to justice. You need to understand, we can't waste resources looking for someone who isn't there any more."

Paige pushed away from Cabe and looked him in the face, her eyes pleading with him. "Ralph said that security camera was poor quality and it isn't even angled at the door. So at best you have a grainy, distant shot of someone with a similar build to Walter's approaching our door. Ralph told me he would have been out of camera range when the bomb detonated. Ralph is smarter than all of us. He's proven that time and again." She wasn't even trying to keep her voice down any longer. She was desperate for someone to believe them just a little.

But they all just blinked at her. Happy shook her head sadly and walked away while the other two stared at her, obviously feeling sorry for her. Paige wanted to scream in frustration.

Finally Cabe said, "Honey, Ralph is a teenage boy who just lost his dad. You know it's not really possible for Walter to have survived."

And Paige just lost it. "We're Scorpion! We specialize in the impossible! How many times have we defied the odds?! We always come out on top! This is _Walter_ we're talking about! He wouldn't give up on any of you! And you know it! He would try even if there was only the smallest chance…"

Toby frowned while his eyes filled. Cabe reached for Paige again, but she stepped back, retreating from the looks of pity on their faces. "Fine," she said emphatically, raising her chin defiantly, "You can go after the bombers. Ralph and I are going to find Walter!"

OXOXOXOXOXO

Okay, so the situation wasn't ideal. In fact, it mostly sucked. On the bright side, the statistics supported the notion that things couldn't get a whole lot worse. Of course he'd thought that on the buoy too. Right before he swam with the sharks. Did it indicate he was losing his grip on reality if that particular memory made him smile? Or was it simply in the last few days, he was almost certain it was six, he'd had precious little to smile about? He would take swimming in shark infested waters, adrenaline pumping as he tried to save the woman he loved, over his current state any day.

Chained like a dog to the inside of a steel freight shipping container wasn't how he would choose to operate, but that was Walter's life for the present. The genius had been over every inch of the prison he could reach. But the chain was only three and a half feet long, 84 links to be exact, and welded to the back wall, so it didn't allow him enough freedom to explore the whole space. He only found the rudiments of survival close at hand. A cheap plastic lantern, a few bottles of water, and a bucket with a lid for a toilet were the only supplies he had at his disposal. He thought a lot about picking the heavy padlock that held the chain around his neck, but the parts of the few supplies he had were essential to survival and were too flimsy to move the tumblers anyway. There was a very small room air conditioner on the far end by the door chugging out puffs of air. Convinced he would have succumbed to the sweltering heat otherwise, he was very grateful for any cool air it could manage to circulate. It would have made a handy means of escape if it were closer, but the chain made it impossible to reach. For now he was biding his time and trying his best to gather as much information as possible.

The captors came in on average once a day to bring him food and empty the bucket and occasionally to rough him up for a laugh. Mostly it was the two subordinates that enjoyed knocking him around after they'd been drinking or when their leader wasn't around to threaten them into submission.

They said little to him or each other unless they'd been drinking. He wisely hadn't disclosed his ability to understand Spanish, but when sober, they were cautious around him all the same. So far Walter had been able to catch a few things from random or passing comments. For instance, he gathered they were somewhere south of the US/Mexico border and the shipping container was next to a coyote shack used as a way station somewhere along the El Camino Del Diablo. He'd picked all that up when he overheard an argument about how best to keep 'El Sabelotodo', loosely translated to 'the smartass', from getting away. Once or twice he heard the leader say he had to go into Sonoyta for 'supplies' or gasoline for the generator. Each time he was gone for over an hour. Depending on how long the man stayed in town, it had to be at least 15 to 20 miles away by Walter's estimation, supporting his theory he wouldn't survive the walk if he did manage to escape as Sonoyta was located in the middle of the Sonoran Desert.

He'd also caught a few more alarming facts during the times the men were transporting him starting on the day they kidnapped him from the garage. First of all, he had a bounty on his head. He was being kept alive and mostly intact for the present because of negotiations over price. Even though they'd rescued Elia's daughter Zoe over five years ago, the leader of the La Plaga cartel apparently still wanted Walter dead. He was reputed to have a very long memory. And Scorpion not only cost him money, but more importantly, reputation and respect within the community. He wanted to make an example of Walter, but it had taken him those five years to formulate a plan to extract him from the US without alerting Homeland. He hired these thugs on the fringes of his empire to kidnap the Scorpion leader and fake his death.

Walter knew as soon as they agreed on a sum of money, his captors would give up his location to the cartel and he would be as good as dead. In the meantime, he spent his days plotting and discarding possible ways to get away or at least get a message to his team. He tried not to despair. It was a waste of energy. Instead he kept hoping against hope that Ralph found his message and they were looking for him. It was against the odds, but that was what Scorpion was all about. They'd often defied the odds.

It was harder at night when his fitful dreams were full of Paige and Ralph. When he woke up and had to tamp down the fear for his family and the rage at all that had been taken from them.


	3. Chapter 3

**HOME FIRES**

 **AN: I had to change a few things in one of the paragraphs in the last chapter. It didn't fit the timeline if Ralph is now fifteen. If that kind of thing bugs you like it does me, go back and check it out. Let me know if it still doesn't make sense.**

He missed her scent. He couldn't explain why it appealed to him so much. It just said 'home' to him. It had been that way since the first day at the diner although he'd been too blind to realize it at the time.

And he missed dancing with her to whatever song happened to be playing or even to whichever little tune she was humming. It was kind of their thing to dance at every opportunity. In the kitchen. In the hallway. In a parking lot. In the grocery store aisle. Anywhere and everywhere the mood hit them. To spend those few precious minutes looking into each other's eyes just to reestablish that connection they both felt. He'd never danced before her. Hell, he'd never liked to be touched before her. He sure wished he could hold her now.

He missed the looks on Ralph's face when he was acting stupid or when something occurred to the pair of them at the exact same moment. Knowing someone understood him so completely was remarkable every single time.

He missed having breakfast together when the three of them looked over their daily agendas and coordinated tasks and other activities. And coffee with cinnamon. He always got a kiss as a reward when he got it just right…

Making slow love with Paige when it was stormy outside.

Talking to Ralph, the son of his heart. Spending time simply discussing what subjects were currently grabbing his interest.

Hundreds of little things. All essential to him.

He'd taken every one of them for granted.

Terror at the idea he would never experience those things again had the useless tears welling. He clenched his fists and pressed them to his eyes. He could _not_ give up. But the clue he'd left was so vague. He'd been so groggy and in such a hurry. He had only seconds to leave it. What if Ralph couldn't decipher it? What if this was the one time they weren't perfectly in sync.

Walter fought back the waves of abject hopelessness threatening to choke him by remembering Paige's words from the island, "Forget everything I ever taught you about sensitivity and feelings. Let your EQ drop to zero…" He had to take that advice again if he was going to find a way home to them.

But before he shut those feelings down completely, he whispered a desperate prayer into the darkness that engulfed him, "I know she believes in you. She's Paige and faith is part of the person she is. If you're really there and if you can really hear me… Ev-everyone has left them. Everyone. So-so I just need to get home. _Please_. I need to be the exception. Not just for me. For them."

OXOXOXOXOXO

"Mom, see this ink smear here? I think it's actually another set of numbers. I'm trying to make it out." Ralph sat at the worktable in the loft inspecting the note closely, muttering calculations to himself. "Does File 8114… No, 0114 mean anything to you?"

The mother and son duo set themselves up in the loft to brainstorm ways of finding Walter. With so little to go on, Paige was beginning to have her doubts. What if she really was clinging to false hope? But Ralph's words brought her up short. "That number coincides with a case file. I'm not sure what it means, but I'll pull the file. It's worth a shot."

She walked over to the fireproof cabinet where Walter always kept the extra copies of the case files. Paige thumbed through the folders casually counting. When she didn't find the one she was seeking, she looked more carefully. Walter wasn't as OCD as Sylvester, but he was meticulous when it came to records. She remembered it took them weeks to straighten out the mess Ray called a 'system'. She finally found the file out of place, crammed haphazardly in the side of the drawer and a thrill shivered its way up her spine like Walter had breathed a word in her ear. Inside, the first page was torn in half. The color and shape of the torn off piece matched the note left for Ralph.

"Here it is," Paige said absently scanning it for clues and finding nothing noteworthy. "It's a five year old case. I don't see how it could mean something. It was the first time we worked for Richard Elia. What would this have to do with anything?" She rubbed at her aching temple with the hand not holding the file. It appeared so random. Was this another dead end? Drowning in disappointment, the defeat that chipped away at her all afternoon threatened to crush her. She was so very tired. The hope was almost more painful than the loss when they were forced to discard another idea.

"What did you do for Mr. Elia, Mom? It could be relevant." Ralph walked over to stand beside her, laying one hand on her back and peering over her shoulder at the file.

"We rescued his daughter from a drug cartel. End of story. Nothing else ever came from it. And it was such a long time ago." Her voice sounded flat to her ears.

"A drug cartel? Where?"

"Somewhere in Mexico? Why?"

"Well, was it a quiet, simple extraction? I need the details." Ralph's tone was a little clipped like he was getting impatient.

Paige responded defensively, "Is _anything_ Scorpion does ever simple or quiet? What difference does it make? This was over five years ago! It means nothing!" A tangle of tears were attempting to claw their way out making her throat raw.

"Mom, there's a reason Walter picked this file. Where in Mexico? Tell me what happened?"

"Maybe he just grabbed a file at random looking for something to write on," she returned shortly, but she handed the file to her son for him to read.

Ralph flipped through, taking in the minutiae. "Mom, he could have easily grabbed a number of other things to write on that were much more convenient. Pulling a non-specific file would have been inefficient. When have you ever known Walter to be anything but efficient? And see here? The way things ended with this case? It could've been potentially embarrassing for the cartel or even fatal for some of the members. It certainly cost them money and possibly future business. I think we should look into their activity since this happened. We have to examine all the avenues. Please, mom. We can't give up."

Taking a bracing breath, Paige answered, "I'm sorry, baby. You are absolutely right. By all means let's look into this lead."

OXOXOXOXOXO

Walter O'Brien had plenty of experience with bullies starting from a very young age. The men who held him captive were no different. In spite of what Tim tried to tell him back in Ireland, overpowering them with physical strength wasn't always a viable option. After all these years it still gave him a slightly smug feeling to know the former SEAL was wrong. Also _,_ Walter ended up with Paige. He knew it was a little pathetic, but he would take the positives where he could find them.

He briefly considered bashing one of thugs over the head with the lantern, but it was poorly made and it would break easily. Even if he succeeded in thwarting the first one, that left two other armed men to subdue without the element of surprise and he would still be bound by the chain unless they happened to drop keys somewhere near him. No, he had to outsmart them somehow.

No one had been in to check on him in close to thirty-six hours. He was down to his last half bottle of water and he had nothing left to eat even though he'd tried to ration the few items they brought him each time.

Walter knew they were still near. The generator was still powering the air conditioner for one thing, so it hadn't run out of gas. He'd heard the muffled slam of car doors at one point. And a few hours before, the men were whooping and shooting their guns in the air. The genius could only assume they were drunk again.

He had to think of an idea before they came back to check on him. He had to figure out a way to escape before the cartel leader arrived. The hunger was making him feel more frustrated and weak, but he wouldn't give in. He couldn't.

Walter was wracking every inch of his substantial brain when he heard the metallic scrape of the doors opening. Moonlight steaming in behind them made the figures in the entrance into inky, black silhouettes and elongated their shadows on the floor into pencil-thin fingers reaching for him in his darkened corner.

When his eyes adjusted, he could see one of the figures turned out to be a scantily clad and heavily made up woman cooing and clinging to the beefy man with the pockmarked face. The one they called Mateo. He was the lowest rung on the ruffian ladder and was always tasked with the majority of grunt work.

It was obvious the pair had been drinking heavily as they staggered and snickered and held each other upright as they approached. This meant the ring leader, Santiago, probably wasn't around for some reason. One down at least.

As they got closer, Walter noticed the goon seemed to be without his side arm. Advantage number two.

And he was being underestimated. Advantage number three.

The couple spent a few minutes making fun of his disgusting state. He knew his stench must have been quite overwhelming. The genius hadn't showered or brushed his teeth in days, his hair clung to his scalp in greasy, spiky curls and his stubble could almost be called a beard at this point. His shirt was a crumpled, sweat-stained mess.

While they had their slurring, drunken fun at his expense, he was taking stock. Noticing details he was sure they would rather he missed.

He decided to have a little fun of his own. Walter gave the female a contemptuous look and spat, "Puta!" He curled his lip for effect.

The man stomped toward him, blood in his eye. Walter swung the lantern at the man's head, it shattered with an echoing crack as it split and the pieces skittered all around them. It didn't hurt the guy enough to incapacitate him, especially with the numbness brought about by the alcohol, but it was enough to knock him over and embarrass him in front of his 'lady'.

Walter endured the next few minutes as a punching bag. He was able to dodge a few blows because the idiot was so inebriated. One punch cuffed his ear making it ring and he fell to the side and stayed down, pretending to be knocked out. This seemed to satisfy the brute and he promptly grabbed the woman by the arm and lurched out the door, slamming it behind him, his original purpose forgotten.

He didn't empty the bucket. He didn't leave any food. He didn't leave any more water.

What he did leave was his cell phone.

When Walter was sizing them up, he noticed the phone hanging half out of the man's pants pocket. He just had to lure him close enough and cause enough of a ruckus to palm it.


	4. Chapter 4

**HOME FIRES**

The tantalizing look she was aiming his way was making him wild inside. It was incredible to him. He still always wanted her so much that all it took to get him going was an inviting gaze from her.

Letting her hips sway, Paige stepped indolently into his personal space until he could feel her body heat then her soft breasts barely brushing his chest. Her hands smoothed up his arms, she curled her fingers around his collar and drew his head down for a teasing kiss ending it with a gentle bite of his lower lip.

His pulse jumping erratically, he slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her closer until he could lean down and capture her mouth fully with his. He groaned low and deep when his tongue stroked inside seeking and finding hers.

His hands dropped to her hips and curled reflexively when she pressed her lower body tightly against his. He had never needed her so much.

She was so hot.

Too hot.

That wasn't right. Walter paused the dream and was about to rewind and replay it when his instincts jerked him fully back to consciousness instead. Something was wrong.

It was still pitch dark, but it was too quiet. All at once he realized the air conditioner was no longer running and he couldn't hear the generator. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

That could only mean one thing. His kidnappers had given up his location and left hours before. The cartel leader was on the way.

Walter had been so hopeful, so triumphant when he'd managed to get Mateo's phone. He'd sacrificed his only source of light to get it. But when he looked at the screen, there was no signal. Not even one bar.

Obviously the area was remote. Not only that, he was trapped inside a steel box.

He had to _think_.

Walter tried everything. First, he made sure the phone's GPS locator was on.

Next, he decided sending a message would require less signal strength, so he hurriedly composed one he hoped would concisely explain his circumstances and pinpoint his approximate location. He programmed in the cell numbers of everyone on the team.

Then he tried to build a booster out of the wires and batteries from the broken lantern. The message failed to send time and again.

He also tried using the metal wall of the shipping container itself as an antenna. The message failed to send every time. He kept trying over and over and over until he must have fallen asleep.

Walter patted around on the floor next to him until he found the phone beside the wall. He picked it up and pressed the 'home' button. Nothing.

The battery was dead.

OXOXOXOXOXO

"How's the search going?" Cabe asked casually.

The young genius was sitting at Walter's desk typing at the computer at a blistering pace then pausing at intervals to read. He chose not to reply.

The Homeland agent stepped behind him and placed one hand on Ralph's shoulder. The boy stiffened and instantly minimized the window he was viewing. "Fine," He answered testily. Then added, "Did you need something?" when Cabe didn't move.

The older man raised one eyebrow, but chose not to comment on the lack of respect under the circumstances. Instead he calmly replied, "You know we're on the same side here, don't you?"

Ralph snorted softly and rolled his eyes, hands poised over the keyboard. "Okay. Thanks for that. Could I get back to work now?"

"Well, you could. But it looked to me like you were accessing classified data. So, you could go back to work, although not exactly legally."

The boy pivoted the chair to face Cabe giving him a belligerent look through narrowed eyes. "Are you going to arrest me? Or report me?" He held out his hands, wrists together as if waiting to be cuffed.

"Listen here, son. I'd just like to know what you're doing is safe."

He dropped his hands to his lap. "Why? You won't help. And I'm not _your_ 'son'. You think Walter is dead. But I don't care what you think. You can't make me stop l-looking," To Ralph's annoyance, his chin quivered and he gritted his teeth tightly together to keep tears at bay. He scowled at the man in front of him.

From her own desk, Paige glanced up from the data search she was running prepared to intervene if necessary. Feelings were a little too close to the surface and tension hovered heavily in the garage especially since she and Ralph came downstairs to do the more extensive research on the La Plaga cartel on the faster computers.

Cabe didn't take the bait though. Instead, he perched on the corner of the desk. "You have no idea how much I'm hoping you prove me wrong. You know how I feel about Walter, don't you? You know what he means to me. You think of him as your dad. Well, I think of him as my son. And you mean a lot to me too. I just want to make sure you aren't getting yourself in trouble."

All the fight drained out of Ralph along with his heavy sigh. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm being careful, I promise."

"Have you got any leads?"

Ralph brought his work back up. "Mom and I found something interesting we think is worth looking into."

The Homeland agent frowned, and pointed to the header on the document on the screen. "Wait. Are you looking into the activities of the La Plaga cartel? Is that what it says right there?"

"Yes. Walter's note led us to the case file for them."

"Well, I'll be damned." Cabe looked astounded. "The fragments Happy was able to recover pointed to the signature of a bomb maker the cartel has used in the past. Show me what you got, kid."

While the older man was pulling a chair over to Walter's desk, everyone's phones pinged simultaneously with incoming text messages.


	5. Chapter 5

**HOME FIRES**

 **AN: I've noticed a marked decrease in readers recently. I hope it doesn't indicate a lack of interest in the show. :-O I'd rather believe it's because everyone but me has a real life? I'm personally going slowly mad with disappointment that the cast won't be at SDCC this year. No news, gag reels, spoilers or interviews? WHAT?!**

 **XOXOXOXOXOX**

"Ho lee _shit_!"

His face pale, eyes like saucers, Toby stumbled toward Walter's desk holding his phone far out in front of him like it was a live rattler rather than an indication of his live friend. His astonished expression was mirrored in Happy's and Sylvester's faces as the whole team began to gather around. Paige certainly wasn't the only one blinking back relieved tears either.

"See? I _told_ you!" Ralph didn't even try to hide his superior, smug grin.

Cabe cleared his own tight throat and said, "Rub it in later. We need to find him _pronto_! Happy and I were looking into La Plaga's activities before you showed me what you found. They were already on our list of suspects because of the bomb fragments. We've been investigating their known territories. Do you think we should try their headquarters in Coyoacan first? I could contact the local authorities."

Ralph looked back at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief at the show of ignorance. "Or…I could hack into the phone system's database and find out the exact location of the cell Walter used to send that message."

"Or we could do that," Cabe said and slapped the teen on the back before muttering something that sounded like 'Walter, Junior'. Still, his general tone was pleased rather than irritated. "In the mean time, I'll try to set us up with a chopper. No time to lose." He walked away to make the necessary calls.

The rest of the geniuses stood around and gave encouragement, unneeded advice and instructions about the hack, talking over one another excitedly, while looking over the boy's shoulders. His focus was all on the job in spite of the distractions.

"Got him!" Ralph said, just before he navigated off the screen and shut off the monitor. Before anyone had the chance to protest, he looked straight at his mom and stated obstinately, "I know where he is. Or where he was when he sent that text. I'm going with you to get him."

Paige shook her head emphatically. "No way in hell. It's too dangerous."

Sylvester pointed out, "And it could be a trap. How do we know for sure it was Walter who sent that message?"

"Are you kidding me? Mr. 'Sentimental Verbiage Would Be Unnecessary and Inefficient'? I mean, you all got the same text I did, right? Just the bald facts. I can tell you, it was none other than 197 himself." Toby looked around at the circle of faces incredulously, as if it should have been obvious to everyone.

"It still doesn't automatically mean he wasn't forced to send it…" Happy began, but Ralph quickly interrupted.

"I don't _care_! I'm not a little kid anymore and I don't care if it _is_ dangerous! I don't care if it _is_ a trap! I'm the _only_ one who _knew_ he was alive. I am _GOING_ to look for Walter! Period."

His words seemed to reverberate into the shocked silence that followed.

"The not-so-little kid has a point, you know," Toby threw out the first conciliatory words as always.

"We might need his help for the location. He could be our Walter on this one," Happy added thoughtfully.

"He deserves…," Sylvester started.

"Stop. I know right now everyone is feeling guilty for not believing him. But he's _my_ son and it's my call…" Paige reminded everyone sternly before looking at her boy and continuing, "And I can't believe I'm saying this, but Ralph, _if_ you will stay in the helicopter and _if_ Cabe can fit you with a bulletproof vest, I guess you can go. But you have to hang back if anyone asks you to. No questions. Understood?"

"Understood," Ralph said solemnly and gave one firm nod.

"And as for the rest of you, if _anything_ happens to my son, you will _wish_ a cartel was the only thing you were dealing with. Got it?"

"Got it!" Three voices chimed out in unison as Cabe came back to let them know the chopper was on its way.

OXOXOXOXOXO

He'd been running the odds since he woke up.

To say it didn't look promising was a gross understatement.

It was a bad sign he hadn't required the use of the bucket in quite a while. Close to ten hours if his estimation was correct. It was hard to gauge the precise passage of time. All that aside, he knew he had to be approaching moderate dehydration at least. He was extremely thirsty and his mouth was dry, but he was still sweating which meant he wasn't in danger of being disoriented. Yet.

When Walter heard the crunch of tires on the gravel path beside the shipping container, he couldn't fight the leaping agony of hope that it was Cabe's government issued and blissfully air-conditioned SUV or that his friends and family would be bursting through the doors to save him any second.

But the left side of his brain had already calculated the odds.

The door opened and bright daylight stabbed at his eyes temporarily blinding him, but he could almost ignore the pain because of the relief of the gust of fresh air on his over-heated skin.

"El Sabelotodo? iAlpestas!"

With those words, all Walter's hope guttered and went out like the flame on a melted candle stub. His chances just dropped to nil.

Using efficiency he would normally admire, the men cut the chain with bolt cutters leaving the end dangling from his neck like a leash. They bound his hands and forced him to stand on legs that had all the strength of warm gelatin. Next they crammed a burlap bag over his head, the tiny squares of light poking through the fabric still allowed him to see more than he had in hours.

Walter felt strangely glad when they dragged him outside to face his fate and he was somewhat relieved it was almost over. His resignation should have terrified him, but all he experienced at the thought was a numb sort of acceptance.

They marched him forward then forced him to kneel beside the vehicle.

All of the sudden his would-be assassins started shouting in rapid Spanish as everyone heard the steady drum beat of helicopter rotors above them.

In the distance, over all the other clamor, Walter caught the sweetest sound he'd ever heard in his life.

"DAD! DAAD! WE'RE HERE! HANG ON!"

That was just before the shooting started.


	6. Chapter 6

**HOME FIRES**

 **AN: There will probably be one more short chapter after this. I feel the story needs a little epilogue to cap it off right.**

 **Thank you _so_ much for all the reviews, etc. And for those of you giving me a hard time about the cliffhanger chapter endings? Uh, it's a _suspense_ story. Duh. Plus I just like messin' with y'all. Bwahahahaha! ;-D**

 **OXOXOXOXOXO**

As the spent brass rained down on the hard-packed dirt road like he was caught in a hail storm, Walter's first thought was 'I've got to draw fire away from the helicopter!' because he knew Cabe's service weapon was no match for the assault rifles the cartel thugs were carrying. He also knew there was no time to waste getting mad at the team for putting Ralph, _his_ _boy_ , in the line of fire. An angry confrontation was due and it was already simmering in the back of his mind, but first they all had to get out of this situation alive. So he forced those thoughts aside, as he dropped to his belly and commando crawled on his knees and elbows underneath the car. His captors didn't notice given their occupation with firing as many bullets as possible at the hovering threat that was the chopper.

Right before he managed to get all the way under, the chain he was dragging got snagged on something threatening to choke him and preventing his forward motion. Walter hooked a thumb under the bag on his head and yanked it off. He looked back and saw one of the assassins was standing on the loose end and was shouting at the others for attention, trying to alert them to the genius' escape attempt.

Well, he'd wanted to create a distraction. But he was hoping for a bit more time.

Walter tugged on the links near his hands with all his adrenaline-charged might, as much as his bound wrists and the cramped space would allow. Without warning, the chain pulled loose all at once and the far end shot forward and narrowly missed hitting him in the face.

When he recovered from bracing reflexively and opened his eyes, he found himself face to face with the man who'd been standing on the end of the chain. At first he thought the guy was peering under the car hoping to recapture him.

But the man didn't make any attempts to reach for him, and it was then Walter noticed his eyes were wide open and staring, his lips were slack and blood was leaking from a bullet wound in his forehead.

Both completely sickened and relieved at the sight, Walter surged in the opposite direction, resuming his belly crawling toward the passenger side. The genius didn't have time to dwell on the dead, he had a plan. Mentally he went over Happy's instructions for hotwiring a vehicle. He'd seen her do it often enough, but he'd never attempted to do it himself. He knew how it worked in theory, he only hoped he could put the theory into practice in a hurry.

Wriggling out from under the car, but staying crouched low trying to avoid flying bullets and being spotted, Walter tried the door and heaved a sigh of relief to find it unlocked. He opened it just wide enough to slither stealthily inside.

And there, like the Holy Grail, were the keys! Already in the ignition just waiting for a potential fugitive to use them to flee. Yes! The remaining three men didn't notice anything amiss until Walter started the engine. Staying low in the seat, he jammed the gearshift into drive and floored it. The tires spun and peppered the gunmen with gravel as the car fishtailed and sped away. The back glass popped loudly, shattered and the broken shards cascaded into the back seat. A bullet whizzed by Walter's left ear and another went through the front seat and penetrated the dashboard. He shut all that out and just kept pushing the accelerator all the way to the floor.

OXOXOXOXOXO

Even trying his best to conserve, Cabe was rapidly running out of ammo. So when the car hurtled away from the site, the unspoken consensus of those in the 'copter were to 'follow that car!' and leave the criminals for the back up they could see coming quickly in a cloud of dust from the direction of town.

For a while it seemed like Walter didn't realize he was well out of range, because the car kept burning up the road for several miles before finally coming to an abrupt halt. The pilot set the chopper down in a clearing and the whole Scorpion family burst from all sides as soon as it alit.

Cabe was the first to reach the vehicle; the engine was still chugging away in spite of the chassis being thoroughly riddled with bullet holes. The Scorpion leader was inside, his forehead resting on the steering wheel. For a moment the Homeland agent panicked thinking maybe Walt had been shot, fearing they were about to lose him all over again. He wrenched the door open and the filthy, hollow-eyed person that looked up at him was hardly recognizable, but he was alive and breathing. And that fact made it the best day of Cabe's life.

He pulled Walter out of the car and into a crushing embrace just as Ralph and Paige caught up. Cabe pulled out his pocket knife and cut the zip tie on Walter wrists before he stepped aside to observe the little family reunion. The tough former Marine was unable to stop a lone tear from escaping even though he clenched his teeth until his jaws ached.

Walter was busy bawling them all out for bringing Ralph on such a dangerous mission, but no one paid any attention to his tirade. Ralph threw his arms around Walter's middle and buried his face in his dad's shoulder while Paige grabbed his face between her palms and kissed every stubbly, sweaty, dirt-streaked inch of it. Walter soon gave up making any kind of point. Or much sense for that matter. All three of them were crying openly anyway.

Toby nudged Cabe in the ribs and cleared his throat. "Got a little road grit in your eye there, Grandpa?" He teased, even though his own eyes were suspiciously bright.

Happy walked up beside Toby and slipped an arm around him. She was grinning ear to ear when she called, "Hey, boss! Glad you're not dead and all, but is there anyway we could move this party along? Your ride is waiting to take you to the hospital."

Paige and Ralph were steering Walter toward the helicopter with one arm each around his waist, when Sylvester came stumbling along at last. He took one look at Walter and burst into tears. He ignored his fear of germs and caught up his best friend and his only official brother, the one he thought he'd lost, in a big bear hug weeping all over him unabashedly.

Walter was glad they brought the bigger chopper, but it was still pretty crowded when they were all tucked inside. Enough that the pilot joked they may not be able to lift off which caused Sly to look around in horror.

Happy dug her husband's Swiss army knife out of his pocket and leaned toward Walter making quick work of picking the padlock and removing the offending chain from his neck. Walter whispered his thanks and Happy looked him in the eyes, chin raised defiantly but with a hint of a tremble. "Thanks for not dying on us," she whispered back, briefly squeezing the hand in his lap. Then she sat back and quickly averted her wet eyes.

A thought suddenly swamped Walter in that second. He was sandwiched between and surrounded by the most important people in the whole world. People he was sure he'd never see again. He tried to express what he was thinking, and choked on the words.

Toby, who had started giving him a preliminary medical once over, patted his knee and said, "We know. It's okay." Then to lighten the mood, he added, "And 197, we really need to go over the new triple H."

When Walter frowned and shook his head in confusion, the shrink elaborated, " _H_ ealthy _H_ ygiene _H_ abits. No offense, brother. But you smell awful! No, seriously. And we're all shut up in this enclosed space…"

It felt so good to laugh again.


	7. Chapter 7

**HOME FIRES**

 **AN: I was a little rough on Walter in this story, so I made it up to him in this chapter. Major sweet, sweet fluff warning. Think cotton candy...**

 **Big Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, followed and favorited! You guys are the best-est!**

 **oXoXoXoXoXo**

There had never been a time in his life when he welcomed feeling vulnerable. He preferred being in charge and in control at all times. Even with his EQ advancements, he still never liked appearing weak. Not to mention feeling helpless was one of the harder things he'd dealt with at the hands of the kidnappers.

But when Paige offered to wash his hair, being vulnerable was another story entirely. Walter found he didn't mind so much as long as it was her. He raised no objections.

For one thing, in spite of the two liters of IV fluid the hospital administered and the bland meal he consumed before his release, he was still feeling tired and dizzy. Standing for prolonged periods of time was proving problematic. It had taken all his reserves of strength to shave and brush his teeth, so showering was a little out of the question for the moment.

Then there was the fact he was craving Paige's nearness and her touch. He had longed for her for almost a week. In fact, the thoughts of her and Ralph were at least partially responsible for keeping him alive and hoping and striving throughout his ordeal. Now he simply wanted her close to him no matter what that entailed. Being with her was soothing, calming. And he realized she probably needed to be near him just as much in dealing with the aftermath of his kidnapping and subsequent safe return.

Also, this was the first opportunity they'd had to be alone. He was grateful for his friends, but he missed the intimacy of being in Paige's exclusive company.

So Walter sat in a tub full of warm, soapy water oddly relaxed, allowing Paige to gently rub shampoo through his hair and massage his scalp with tender affection while trying her best to avoid any sore spots.

He'd picked up a few things in the years they'd been a couple and right then he sensed she wanted to say something. He chose not to push her because he'd also learned attempts to force her to talk to him more often than not failed or ended badly.

Paige asked him to lean up and cover his face while she poured warm rinse water over his head. She handed him a wash cloth to dry his face, then she lathered her hands with soap and began massaging his upper back, shoulders and neck, touching only lightly around the areas chafed by the chain. It felt so amazing he groaned involuntarily, his mind drifting and his limbs going loose. He could easily have fallen asleep and slipped under the water.

That's when she finally chose to start speaking, however. "I'm so sorry, Walter. It seems so inadequate, but…"

He could tell by her tone she was upset. It made him tense and become fully aware again. "Why? I'm okay. It wasn't your fault I had a cartel after me. In fact, if I remember correctly, you and the rest of the team didn't want me to take that particular job in the first place. Everyone but Sly tried to talk me out of it."

"It was my fault you were at the garage. If I hadn't told you to leave…"

"They would have gotten to me at another time or another place. They were watching me, you know. The next attempt they made to grab me, you or Ralph or anyone could have been caught in the crossfire which would have been worse. And besides, there's no way you could have known they were waiting for me."

"The whole time," she had to stop and inhale a ragged breath before continuing, "I thought you were gone and all I could think about was the rotten things I said to you. I couldn't stand it."

"No." Then Walter said more firmly, " _No_ , Paige." He turned and took her face between his palms, not caring his hands were wet and dripping all over her shoulders, just needing her to look him in the eyes when he replied. "I said some things I shouldn't have said as well. I overstepped. Ralph and I ganged up on you. Couples have disagreements. Relationships are messy. You've told me those things often enough."

She lowered her eyes and looked at him through her lashes. She whispered, "I hated thinking about the last words you heard from me."

"As it turns out they weren't. And truthfully, the whole time I was being held captive? Our fight didn't even cross my mind. I only thought about how…much we love-love each other. How being with you has changed my life for the better. How afraid you must have been and how much I wanted to get home to you and Ralph. I was able to keep going because you, uh, love me so well. So, please, don't give it another thought." He kissed her softly and rested his forehead against hers briefly. She shut her eyes, breathing a quiet sigh of release.

"I do, you know. Love you," She smiled at him a little tearfully, but seemed mollified. She stood up and wiped the tears and the moisture from Walter's hands off her face then she handed him the towel, "Here. Do you need help getting dried off and dressed?"

"No. I think I can manage the rest, thanks."

Walter was so exhausted he felt like he could sleep for a month. He shuffled out of the bathroom and moved mechanically toward the bed. Paige was waiting for him, already in her night clothes and leaning against the headboard. He had to stop and grip the end of the bed for a second to steady himself. All at once he was struck again by all he could have lost and he had to shut his eyes, willing himself to breathe.

Paige got up and rushed around, sure he was going to pass out or something. He held up a hand and said, "I'm okay. It's okay. The gravity of everything just hit me all of the sudden."

She smiled in understanding and slipped both arms around him. They swayed on the spot just basking in being together again, his cheek against her temple. The need to lie down soon pulled at him though, so it wasn't long before the two of them scooted in under the covers and lay there face-to-face smiling into each other's eyes until his started to drift closed.

Paige whispered, "I know you sometimes get too warm when we sleep all cuddled up together, but would if be okay if I asked you to hold me for a little while? I think it would help me get to sleep."

Walter turned onto his back and opened his arms, blinking sleepily but smiling invitingly. He answered, "In all honesty, I think it would help me too. And would you mind if we leave the lights on? I was in almost total darkness for over a day. Somehow dark doesn't seem very restful right now."

"Are you kidding? I don't care. As long as I'm with you and I know you're alright I can handle anything." They grinned at each other.

Paige had just laid her head in the center of his chest, both of them enjoying the comfort from their closeness, when they heard a soft knock at the door.

Ralph's head peeked around the door and he asked self-consciously, "I know I'm way too old to do this, but would you guys mind if I bunked in here with you for tonight?"

His mother answered, "As long as you don't mind sleeping with the lights on, I guess that's fine."

She looked at Walter for confirmation and he nodded, "Sure, Bud. We'll make room." And the two of them shifted awkwardly to one side of the bed.

Ralph frowned and shook his head. "Uh, sharing the bed would be a little too weird. I brought my sleeping bag." The boy entered the room, unrolled his bedding on the floor on Walter's side of the bed and tossed his pillow at one end. As he was settling in, without making eye contact, he muttered almost to himself, "By the way, I-I really don't think I want to, uh, go to Simon's Rock after all. It's…a little too far away from you guys. I think Stanford might… be better. In-in a couple of years?" Ralph cleared his throat and fell silent.

Walter agreed almost too readily, "I think that's a wise choice."

"Sure, baby," Paige replied hiding her pleased smile in Walter's neck. "Let's all get some sleep now. Love you."

The last thing Walter heard before he drifted off was his son whispering, "Love you too, Mom. Love you, Dad."


End file.
